


British Pie (eyed)

by Squishmitten



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Mashed Potato Ficathon, F/F, Pie, Potato faced men, nightshift, tw:burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishmitten/pseuds/Squishmitten
Summary: Night shifts weren’t Bernie’s favourite thing. They often tended to be filled with paperwork and boredom.Not tonight...





	British Pie (eyed)

Night shifts weren’t Bernie’s favourite thing. As AAU co-leads, neither she nor Serena were called on to cover them too frequently, but on occasion there was just no avoiding it. Raf was on leave, away with Fletch and the kids for a fortnight in sunny Benidorm. Morven and Jasmine being struck down with food poisoning from a dodgy kebab couldn’t exactly have been foreseen. They had repeatedly been warned against eating anything from Holby’s infamous Abra-kebabra burger and kebab van and this time their drunken gamble hadn’t paid off. 

For Bernie, the worst part wasn’t the disruption to sleep patterns as much as the boredom. And the fact Serena would expect stacks of paperwork to be completed. And that Pulses weren’t open 24/7. And worst of all, absolutely worst of all, was not being able to share a bed with Serena. The past few days, only seeing her wife for shift handover had been awful. Thank goodness this was the last. Only this final shift to get through then she had three days off, two of them with Serena. Jason was off to Alan’s for a few days and they would have the house to themselves. If Bernie got her own way, they would barely leave the bedroom, never mind the house. She really missed her wife.

At least she had Donna with her on this final shift. Her almost constant chatter should do wonders for making the time pass by faster. Not to mention she was making a coffee run, just getting in there before the Pulses barista went home for the night and they would have to move on to instant. 

Talk of the devil. “Oh my god Bernie, you’ll never guess!”

Bernie just held out her hand for her triple shot latte, knowing there was no need to contribute to Donna’s monologue. The nurse needed no encouragement to continue her excited recounting of her conversation in the coffee queue.

“I got chatting to Iain, the paramedic. You must know him, he’s ex Army. Anyway, he was telling me about the shout he’d just finished up with. They got called in by the police to some flasher. Drunk as a skunk apparently, pants round his ankles, waving his willy around for all to see.”

Bernie was intrigued, almost in spite of herself. “What was bad enough that the police called for medical help? Nothing as conventional as alcohol poisoning I’m guessing, from your glee.”

“You would never guess this one in a month of Sundays! When the copper went to cover him up, she noticed blisters. He had blisters all over his todger!” Donna’s eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Is that really cause for amusement Donna?” 

“You haven’t heard the best bit yet! So Iain and his sidekick get there right, and obviously go to treat him. Iain drew the short straw and had to get up close and personal with the fella’s meat and two veg. Starts to examine him and notices two things. Crumbs in the pubes, looks like pastry, and a sweet, cinnamon smell. Iain reckons the bloke has watched American Pie once too often.” Donna looked expectantly at Bernie, clearly expecting a reaction by this point.

“Come on Bernie! American Pie? Some high school loser gets told by his mates that poking his pecker into a warm apple pie will feel like getting to third base? His dad catches him at it on the kitchen table? No?” Donna was incredulous. Surely everyone had at least heard about the apple pie thing?

“What exactly is third base? I’ve heard the term before, but I have no idea.”

“What? I’m not sure. Oral maybe? I don’t know. Anyway is that the only thing you get from what I’ve just told you? The bloke must’ve decided to stick his pork sword into an apple pie! Probably so drunk he heated it right up, and the sugary filling has burnt his bellend. A fella so drunk he couldn’t even tell the police his own name isn’t likely to be that careful warming up a pie to shag, now is he?”

“When the kids were young, whenever I was home on leave, they would always beg me to take them to McDonald’s. I developed a liking for their apple pies and they were red hot if you ate them too soon. I burnt my tongue once or twice.”

The phone at the nurses station began to ring. Bernie and Donna looked at each other. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s bound to be, Donna. Go on, answer it,” Bernie sighed. The last thing she really wanted to deal with was a rowdy drunk on the ward. Hopefully the pain medication he’d be on would be sufficient to calm him enough to sleep it off. 

“He’s on his way. Observation until the burns unit can take him in the morning. They’re worried about swelling.” The look Donna gave Bernie made her muffle a snort of laughter. 

“Bay three when he gets here please Donna. I’ll be in the office if you need me. If Serena gets here in the morning and that pile of folders hasn’t shrunk, I will not be popular. I’m not sure a drunken sex game gone wrong would be a decent enough excuse to offer Ms Campbell.”

**

Fifteen minutes later, Bernie was sitting at her desk, trying to motivate herself in the face of bone dry figures and statistics. It was actually a relief when Donna poked her head round the office door.

“I’m sorry Bernie, but can you come and have a word with Mister Crispy Cock out here? He doesn’t wish to cooperate with a ‘mere nurse’. Far too important apparently.”

“Mr Crispy Cock? Really Donna?”

Donna was unrepentant. “Well, he’s acting like a total dick, that’s for sure. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ No mate, I don’t. You’re too off your face to tell me, you giant wang!” 

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ll come out and see him. You get to explain to Serena why her pile of beloved paperwork remains undented in the morning, mind” 

“Like you need an excuse to slack off on the paperwork.” Donna muttered, trailing behind Bernie. Carrying on at a normal volume, Donna began to fill Bernie in on what she knew of the patient. “They did a blood alcohol level on him in the ED and he tested at over 300 milligrams per 100 millilitres. Legal driving limit is 80. They have him on fluids and he’s been catheterised. He keeps removing the pulse-ox and won’t let me check his BP. He was given 5mg of morphine an hour ago.”

Bernie approached bay three and its drunken occupant. He was blinking blearily around. Bernie’s immediate thought was that be looked like a King Edward potato that had been forgotten and left in the back of the cupboard - battered and wrinkled. He looked to be approximately 55 to 60 years old, wispy grey hair and with grazes on his nose and chin. With a blood alcohol level that high, he really shouldn’t still be conscious.

“Ah. Are you the one in charge?” he slurred.

“I am. I’m the clinical lead for the department. Can you tell me your name?”

“Uhh. Ed…? What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that, Ed. Do you know where you are?”

“Lonely. Why not hop in with me blondie?” He went to fling the blanket to one side, almost tipping himself out of bed in the process, only the safety rail keeping him in. “C’mon you c’n keep me warm. Your frien’ c’n join us too.”

“Not bloody likely, even if he didn’t have a charred chipolata.” Donna murmured in Bernie’s ear. Bernie stifled a grin and threw Donna one of her best Major Wolfe glares. Donna just winked back. 

“C’mon blondie, jump in. I c’n show you… show…” he slowed to a halt and just stared at Bernie.

“No thank you Ed, I’m your doctor, you’re my patient and if that wasn’t quite enough, I’m married.” 

“To a beautiful woman. He’d be bang out of luck, even if he didn’t have a charcoal chopper!” whispered Donna. 

“Married? Heh, me too, nev’r let that stand in m’way. What they don’ know won’t hurt ‘em heh. Oow. Hurts. Why haven’t you helped me. S’posed to help.” Ed began to whine.

“Ed, I can’t give you any pain relief until we have you on monitoring. You’re intoxicated and we need to keep an eye on you. Allow Staff Nurse Jackson to do her job and then I can help.”

“Bloody female doctors, always so bloody bossy. ‘kay go on then.” he mumbled, pouting childishly.

“Just be warned, if your hand goes anywhere near my arse again, I might accidentally drop something that might accidentally land on your gammy gonads, so watch it mister.” Donna said sternly to the pissed patient.

Once Donna had him hooked up to the monitor and had administered more morphine, the apple pie abuser finally fell asleep.

“Come on Donna, you deserve a break. I’ll make you a cuppa.” Bernie offered.

“I need one after all that. Then you had better get on with some of that paperwork, else Ms Campbell will have you sleeping in the spare room! Besides, at least you get to shut the office door and drown out some of foghorn Eddie’s snores.”

Bernie sighed. “I really do need to get back to it. Those reports won’t write themselves. Call me if you need anything.” she added, hopefully.

**

At 6.30am on the dot, Serena walked through the double doors of AAU. As had become her habit while Bernie had been on the night shift, she was 30 minutes early. As averse as Serena was to hospital canoodling, she desperately missed her wife and allowed them these 30 minutes to say hello properly. Bernie already had the blinds closed and Donna was savvy enough to know not to disturb the couple. She was also diplomatic enough to ignore the flushed faces and kiss reddened lips of her bosses when they stepped out on to the ward at 7am for the shift handover. 

Bernie and Donna walked Serena round the ward, giving her a run down of the mostly uneventful progress of the patients overnight.

“And this is our only admission from last night, Ms Campbell. Sent to us for observation and should be transferred to the burns unit a little later this morning. He’s been sleeping off the booze most of the night. Not before propositioning Ms Wolfe and myself, and trying to grab my bum too, so I would be careful when he wakes up. Hopefully the hangover will keep him from being too frisky.”

Serena raised an eyebrow at her wife. “You were propositioned last night? You didn’t tell me about that, Bernie.”

“He offered to show us both a good time Ms Campbell. As if he stood a chance, even without his poached privates!”

“We don’t have a full name for him Serena, all we managed to get out of him was ‘Ed’. So obviously no chance of hospital notes or any medical history. He should be out of your hair before too long though, maybe even before he wakes up if you’re lucky.”

Serena looked through the folder Donna had handed her, then took a proper look at the huddled figure in the bay three bed. She closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. 

“Edward Campbell. His name is Edward bloody Campbell.”


End file.
